


The Old Ball and Chain

by Kasuchi



Category: NCIS
Genre: Gen, M/M, Therapy, Undercover As Gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-28
Updated: 2009-03-28
Packaged: 2017-11-18 00:33:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/554931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kasuchi/pseuds/Kasuchi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A case asks for our team to go above and beyond (mostly just beyond) their usual efforts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Old Ball and Chain

**Author's Note:**

> For Lauren, because she is an enabler to the extreme. This? Totally her fault. HER FAULT.

**to have and to hold**

McGee walked into work and waved at Ziva. This was not new.

What was new was Tony spitting out his coffee and sitting forward. "McTardy!"

McGee ignored him. "Good morning, Ziva. How are you this morning?"

"I am well, thank you," she replied, not bothering to hide her smile.

"You're late! You're never late." Tony's eyes narrowed. "What have you been up to?"

"Did you go for a jog today?"

"No dark circles," Tony murmured, standing, fingers drumming on his chin.

"As a matter of fact, I did. Took a long route past the elementary school."

"Were you tempted to play on the playground?" McGee flashed her a smile before logging in.

Tony stepped closer. "Usual clothes, usual amount of cologne." He cocked his head to the side.

"A little," she admitted, then held her hands up. "What can I say? Playgrounds here remind me of training camp. I particularly like the jumble gyms."

"Jungle gyms," Tony corrected offhand, leaning forward into McGee's personal space. "Probie. Why are you late?"

McGee made a show of checking his computer clock. "I'm not, Tony. I'm five minutes early."

"But you're usually thirty."

"I had my coffee on my way to work."

"Bought a newspaper?" He poked at the uneven edge of newsprint sticking out of McGee's bag. "Why?"

His brow knitted together. "Not really any of your business. And get out of my space."

"Come on, McGee. You know you like it."

"Not as much as you seem to, DiNozzo," Gibbs quipped, striding by. "Grab your gear. We've got a case." Gibbs punched the call button on the elevator. "Dead Marine out in Moran."

"I do not understand something," Ziva interjected as they piled into the elevator.

"I'm going to regret this," Tony muttered before turning to her. "What?"

"If Marines are supposed to be so well-trained, why do they keep getting killed off?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." Instinctively, Tony winced as the doors closed, anticipating the blow that never came. Gibbs just half-smiled.

**from this day forward**

"Undercover op, boss?" Tony looked up at Gibbs, who had just slapped a file down on the desk.

"Yeah. Two-man show."

"Sweet." Tony leered at Ziva. "Maybe I'll get to see that tattoo again."

"Wrong second man, Tony." Gibbs slapped down a matching file on McGee's desk.

"Me?" McGee sounded incredulous.

"Him?" Tony echoed, mouth agape.

"Whoever's killing him off is doing it inside couples therapy," Ziva reasoned, smirk spread wide across her features. "It just so happens to be therapy for gay couples."

Tony leveled a dark stare at her. "You're enjoying this too much, you know that?"

Ziva beamed. "I just feel bad for McGee."

"Oh really? Why's that?"

Her smile grew wider, if that were even possible. "He gets to make-up with you."

"It's make-out," Tony corrected, before slapping himself in the forehead with a palm.

"Cheer up, DiNozzo," Gibbs added. "At least this time you won't have to pretend to have sex."

McGee ignored them, skimming the file. "Wait, why am I the unemployed one?!"

**for better or for worse**

"We have to sell it, Probie."

"I know, Tony."

"I'm serious. I know these people. Therapists." He shuddered. "They can smell fear. And dishonesty."

"I think I'll be okay." Tony looked at him for a long moment. McGee fidgeted. "Stop that."

"You really think you'll be okay?"

Now McGee gave him a look. "Tony, you don't have to kiss me if you don't want to."

Tony held up a hand. "Not the issue here." He paused. "You've never done undercover work before."

McGee shrugged. "I have to, sometime. You, Ziva, and even Gibbs already have."

"Well, yeah, but we've been trained for it."

Tim shot him a look. "How much training did you have before you got thrown into the mess the first time?"

"Of pretending to be other people?" Tony smiled back at him humorlessly. "A lifetime's worth."

They were quiet for a minute. The only sound was of the car's engine humming and the structure of the car resonating with the asphalt below them.

"Well, if worst comes to worst, you'll cover me." McGee avoided catching Tony's reflection.

Tony scoffed. "Probie, I'd throw myself on a grenade for you." He flashed his passenger a bright smile. "Unless, of course, you decide you don't like making out with me. That would hurt my feelings." He pouted exaggeratedly, and McGee laughed.

**for richer or for poorer**

"Let's talk about some of your conflicts." Their therapist was a primly dressed woman, pageboy-cropped hair pulled back by a clip. Her suit was demure, but her skirt left her calves bare. Add the heels, and McGee was a little distracted. (So was Tony, but he, at least, was used to playing pretend.)

Twenty minutes later, the conversation had devolved into bickering.

"I don't believe this. I work all day so that you can stay at home and type on your typewriter without having to worry, and all I ask in return is a little peace and quiet when I get back."

"That's rich coming from you - I slave away cooking and cleaning and you don't even thank me."

"Do _you_ thank _me_?"

"Okay, okay!" The therapist was looking a little frazzled. McGee was almost proud. "Jake, you obviously feel there's more to this than just relegated duties. How about you take a few minutes to tell Nic exactly how you feel."

McGee shifted uncomfortably. "I feel like you completely disregard my contribution to this. I'm not a child anymore. We've known each other for five years. When are you going to admit that I've come into my own?"

"Nic, what do you have to say to that?"

Tony sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "It's not that I don't respect you. I want to protect you. I envy how you see the world, and I don't want that to change."

"Very good, both of you. Now, Nic, would you like to share how you feel?"

Steepling his fingers, Tony was silent for a long moment. "You assume too much about me. You think you know who I am, but you don't want to see past my actions. And I don't appreciate you making light of personal things I've shared." He paused, and added softly, "You don't believe in me, and that's hard to swallow."

The room was eerilie silent for a moment.

"Well, I think we've made some good progress. I want both of you to think about what the other has said and then we'll reconvene later and work out a solution."

They stood and walked out of the therapist's office, careful not to touch.

On the other end of the wire, Gibbs and Ziva shared a look.

"Am I going crazy or did...?"

"Folie a deux, Ziva." Gibbs took a drink of his coffee.

Ziva shook her head. "I am almost glad they are in therapy."

**in sickness and in health**

"Ow! Probie, watch where you put your elbows. God, they're like knives attached to arms."

"Well, _sorry_ , but it's kind of hard to maneuver when you're spread out like that."

Pause. "Are you calling me fat, McStabby?"

"What? No, no, no, no! You're not fat. You just...spread out." He held out his hands to demonstrate.

Tony shot him a woeful look. "You sure? I swear it's the food and the lack of a gym."

"Could be. You're a little softer, maybe, but it's good on you. Not, like, awkward or anything."

"And you're not lying to me so that I look ridiculous in my clothes?"

"Tony, you really think that I would I do that?"

"I didn't say that--"

"Suspect at two o'clock."

"He's headed right for us."

"What do we--mmph!"

Very softly, "Play along, _Jake_. Long-term, committed relationship, remember?"

"Right," he replied, a little shocked.

When the suspect had passed and was out of earshot, they separated and sighed in relief.

"So," Tony started, continuing like he hadn't just made out with his junior officer. "As much as I like your cooking, McChef, we're going to have to change it up some."

"Greek salad?"

"And hummus pizza. Abby teach you that recipe?"

"Swears she got it from a friend of a friend of a nun."

"And they say this job has no perks."

**to love and cherish**

"Well, I think you two have made significant progress."

McGee beamed at her. "Really?" He clasped one of Tony's hands in his own. "I think so, too."

"We're definitely communicating better," Tony added, lacing his fingers with McGee.

"And that was your biggest hurdle. Congratulations. Now, you mentioned that you were from the Baltimore area, so I'm including a list of therapists up there in case you two run into snags." She smiled and pulled off her glasses. "But something tells me you two are going to be just fine."

They stood and shook her hand in turn. "Thanks a lot, Doctor. Nic and I, we owe you a lot."

She waved a hand dismissively. "The pleasure's been mine. I don't think I've met a couple who's wanted to make it work as much as you two have. I'm sure you'll be very happy together."

Walking back to their room, McGee looked thoughtful.

"Out with it, McThinky."

"I was just thinking, it's going to be weird to go back to work."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Well, I know it'll be hard to not think about all the mindblowing sex, but I'm pretty sure you'll manage."

McGee leveled a dark stare his way. "Ha. Ha. Not what I meant." He shrugged and looked away. "It's been nice working with you like this, Tony."

Tony was quiet. "Same here, McGee."

**until death do you part**

Two days after the bust, the three of them were compiling notes and evidence for the case report when Tony noticed something.

"Probie."

"What?" McGee raised an eyebrow but continued typing.

"You noticed all the people giving us funny looks?"

"Not particularly, no."

"Well they have." Tony saw Ziva carefully not looking at them. "Ziva."

"Yes, Tony?"

Tony's eyes narrowed. "Oh, no. You don't get to pull the innocent act on me. I just spent six weeks undercover in couple's therapy for gay men. I think I can demand answers." With Tony standing before her, arms akimbo, Ziva had to crane her neck back to maintain eye contact.

"She's just pissed that she lost her bet." Abby leaned casually against one of the cubicle walls, chin resting atop folded arms.

"Bet?" McGee pushed his keyboard away from him. "What bet?"

"Office pool," Ziva explained, eyes not leaving Tony's face.

"I know how bets are run, Zee- _vah_. What was the bet _for_?"

"On when you and McGee would end up sleeping together," Ducky interjected, pressing a file into Tony's midsection. "That's the copy of the autopsy report you requested, Antony. Do be careful not to accidentally shred this one."

Tony ignored the latter half of Ducky's comment, understandably. He sputtered. "Sleep. Together. Me and Probie?" He gaped openmouthed at them.

"I think we broke him," Abby stage-whispered to Ziva and Ducky. Ziva ducked her head, hair falling forward and shaking as she laughed.

McGee walked over and stood next to Tony. He crossed his arms and surveyed them with a dark look. "What were your bets, exactly?"

The other three looked at each other guiltily.

"Four days," Ziva admitted.

"Nine," Abby pouted.

"A fortnight," Ducky mumbled.

"Three weeks," Gibbs added, whooshing past. "Ducky, autopsy."

"Coming, Jethro!" McGee swore he had never seen Ducky move quite that fast before.

Tony snapped his mouth shut and visibly swallowed. "Okay. So who won?"

Ziva tilted her chin up. "The director."

The two of them turned around and looked up at Vance, who smirked down at them before walking back into his office.

"Probie."

"Yeah."

"You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"We deserve a cut of that pot?"

"Exactly."

"And I should probably ask for it, since Director Vance doesn't like you?"

Tony turned to McGee and beamed. "Probie!" He hugged McGee.

Abby bounced up and down and pointed dramatically. "See! That's why the pool started."

McGee rolled his eyes. "Please. This would be a more convincing argument." Pulling Tony by the lapels, he kissed him soundly (but chastely) on the mouth. Abby made a small noise of protest when they pulled apart.

Tony absently noted that Ziva looked ten years younger when her eyes got that big. "McGrabby, we talked about this." Tony straightened and smoothed out his shirt. "No grabbing by the lapels. It wrinkles the silk blend shirts."

"Yeah, okay." McGee sat back down at his desk, fingers typing quickly once more. "I'll remember that for next time."

"Next time?" Abby looked ready to explode from sheer joy.

Tony shrugged loosely. "When you go undercover..."

"You have to be ready for anything," McGee finished, not looking away from the screen.

Abby and Ziva shared a look.

Tony ginned at them, wide enough for dimples, and turned back to his own report.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Fully and completely Lauren's fault! Plot bunny pusher!
> 
> 2\. Tony's alias was Nicolas G. Perfetti, and McGee's was Jacob Aaron Turner. Yes those are very specific.


End file.
